Every Luminous Movement

Here's the deal--a few weeks ago, I wrote my last post on A Path to My Woods and tossed it up on Facebook with this poem from Hafiz:

Every Moment

"I rarely let the word 'No' escape
from my mouth

Because it is so plain to my soul

That God has shouted 'Yes!, Yes!, Yes!'
To every luminous movement in Existence.

~Hafiz (trans. by Daniel Ladinsky, I Heard God Laughing)


I hit the submit button with a bit of hesitation because this is such a bold and outlandish statement. The word 'no' escapes my lips daily. I'm the mother of four young children. How in the world could Hafiz be so blind? There are a bijillion things to say 'no' to in the world; a bizillion gut-wrenching injustices to fight against every day. So what was up with Hafiz? Was he blind to the craziness? Did he, as my friend replied in jest, ever have a two year old?

This was my response (more for myself than for her): "I'm certain he did. This poem was most definitely written in a more ecstatic moment when even the exploits of two-year-olds are seen as an opportunity for the growth of humankind. Hmmn. Does that sound crazy? Kind of, but that is Hafiz. There is horrific evil in the world far outweighing 'terrible-twos', and yet, to see a the broader picture is to embrace the hunger and tragedy to be weighed with generosity and compassion. Have we reached a place of wholeness, no. But can I say "yes" to the beautiful process engulfed in Divine presence, Yes! :)"

I've had moments like these, moments when the whole of existence seemed to fill me up with awareness of the Ever-Present. Knock me off my feet if I haven't had that same experience standing by a gushing river, eyes lifted towards the trees, as I have standing at a sink of dirty dishes, hands soaked in sudsy water. God's Spirit is not something for us to 'usher in' with our praises, not something for us to invite. God's Spirit IS. This is what Hafiz recognized.

It's one thing to say "Yes, Yes, Yes" to a sink full of dishes or a pile of dirty laundry. It's an entirely different thing to "shout 'Yes! Yes! Yes!' to every luminous movement in existence." How can the All-Knowing shout 'Yes!' when we can see very clearly so much to say 'no' to? Does this mean we sit back blissfully accepting all that is with no response? Well, no.

I love this quote by former UN secretary-general--and mystic--Dag Hammarskjold: "For all that has been, thanks. For all that will be, yes". Hammarskjold was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize post-humanously. On a life-time scale, his response to 'yes and thank you' was a luminous movement towards peace. On an eternal scale--every ounce of light to every ounce of darkness--we say yes, thank you.

The human experience is plagued with hunger and horror and tears upon tears. And God shouts, 'Yes! Yes! Yes!' to the luminous imperfect longing and 'Yes! Yes! Yes!' to the luminous movement of grace and compassion offered in return. And the angels in heaven whisper, "grow, grow."And we do.

Just-Before-Spring Seasons

February. For the past few years of my life, February has been a month of impending dread. A dark, cold, long month; a month doomed by my psyche as lonely; an end of winter, how-will-I- ever-survive-until-Spring month. February. I could go into a myriad of reasons of how February has deserved this dismal relegation in my eyes, but we all have our seasons and I have grown to believe that even Februaries are sometimes needful and healing to the growing soul. So this quiet, painful Just Before Spring is my February--the one I've embraced.

Gunilla Norris puts it so beautifully in her book, Mystic Garden: "Everything is dormant in the cold. My spirit, too is spilled and scattered. I seem to be at a standstill...Benumbed, we may wonder if perhaps it is in quietude, in seeming deep freeze, that God enters our depth without interference? Below the ever-tracking mind, can we sense, trust, or feel the soul being led? Could we learn to simply accept this, to allow it?"

Now I'm searching for those redeemable moments:

I had an amazing opportunity during February to visit my family in Kansas--my family a thousand miles away. It was a once in a lifetime surprise visit that I will never forget. I came back from that trip haunted by a deliciously heart-rending word--submerged--and picturing a dear one's hands lifted, one slightly more elevated--two uneven plains of existence; to me a sudden sadness, a quick word of correction, of wall-raising. But then a realization that every instance in life has a bit of truth to offer--a lesson to level. And my soul said, 'yes'.

I layed in my bed that night picturing myself perched in the lower hand; my mind bucked at the thought and pushed it away, not wanting to accept this perception. But my soul said 'yes' to the moment; to the element of truth. And when I placed myself in the lifted hand, I realized that I was the one standing at the edge of a cliff, gazing sometimes at the water below, but mostly distracted by the whirlwind around me.

How do we submerge ourselves in Spirit? How do we live in that Divine awareness? I know the truth is simple. The practice can be elusive. This is why I come back to these four lines by Gunilla Norris in her book, Being Home:

First thought--as in 'first light'--

let me be aware that I waken in You

Before I even think that I am in my bed,

let me think that I am in You.

Presence and Awareness--knowing simply that the Divine is not barred from the cliffs we stand on, not confined to the water below, but permeates all. It is my awareness that becomes dull, distracted by life rather than submerged in Life. Recognizing Divine Presence in every moment, every simple daily act--this is the choice to be submerged in a presence we can never escape.

Absolutely Clear

Today I've been mourning my weakness, a bit sad that I don't aways live up to the awake-ness that I pursue in life. I know weakness in itself is an avenue of spiritual growth, but sometimes it's hard to rise above when we feel deflated.

Then I read this, among other of my favorites poems, and found myself back home, so filled up and reminded. This is just what I need.

Absolutely Clear

Don't surrender your loneliness
So quickly.
Let it cut more deep.

Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft
My voice
So tender,

My need of God
Absolutely
Clear.

~Hafiz
(trans. by Daniel Landinsky)

A Lakota Prayer

Oh, Great Spirit,

whose voice I hear in the winds
and whose breath gives life to all the world, hear me.
I am small and weak
I need your strength and wisdom.

Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes
ever behold the red and purple sunset.
Make my hands respect the things you have made
and my ears sharp to hear your voice.
Make me wise so that I may understand
the things you have taught my people.
Let me learn the lessons you have hidden
in every leaf and rock.

I seek strength, not to be superior to my brother,
but to fight my greatest enemy--myself.
Make me always ready to come to you
with clean hands and straight eyes,
so when life fades, as the fading sunset,
my spirit will come to you
without shame.

American Indian
Lakota
Chief Yellow Lark
1887

More about story...and some of mine

As I get closer to people I'm less inclined to jump to simple conclusions about their life and struggles (or how I might fix them). As the "armchair adviser" in me recedes, compassion, sadness and hope grow. As one of my mentors told me, "When you really get to know another person, sometimes all you'll want to do is weep."

Transparency fosters this continual revelation. And the more open another person is with me, the more clearly I see the truth of Plato's saying, "Be kind to everyone you meet, for everyone is waging a terrible internal battle."

~Jenny Schroedel

I concocted a soymilk eggnog latte this morning, slightly sceptical about how it would turn out. Not bad, though...very sippable. I added just a dash of cinnamon and a few drops of vanilla. Viola! Me, the barista.

Leaving breakfast dishes scattered on the table, I sat down at my computer to start writing, when a full 3D picture of my kitchen sink flashed into my brain, obscuring every other thought. So to the kitchen I flew, mindlessly arranging dirty dishes in a basin of suds and cascading water. Suddenly awareness returned. I blinked my eyes, dazed, hands dripping.

This is about being real, I think to myself. Another authentic moment...the kind that brings you back to the storyline. Mindless dashes are not uncommon in my world, but I've had 34 years now to examine those interesting quirks...not quite so many in higher level thinking.

(I am reminded of this and this and this. )

Here's something real:

When I was younger, I would have instances when disturbing scenarios would repeat over and over in my mind. One common scene would be me getting into a car and shutting the door on my leg. I would try frantically again and again to get that leg in before the door shut. It felt overwhelming, impossible. Finally, with all my brainpower, I would force the leg in and slam the door shut. Sometimes, I felt physically tired from the stress these type of episodes would cause. And, honestly, it was pretty disturbing. I thought I was weird and probably the only person to have this type of brain. High stress seemed to trigger moments like this and make them more intense.

When I felt extra stressed, I would start blinking. Sometimes my eyes would feel stuck closed. I had to work to get them open. As I got older, I would bargain with myself. Say, if I didn't get the silverware put away in the drawer just right, I would have to stab myself with one of the knives. Sounds crazy, I know. I felt a little fearful putting the utensils away, but I never followed through on those sorts of bargains. They were just there, reflecting the inner-struggle. The scenarios changed as I got older, but were always most intense in times of stress or emotional upheaval.

Now I know that I'm not crazy, just a bit obsessive...and knowing is half the battle. I can laugh at my mind's tendancy to need a tidied dorm-room in college before I could start studying.I can laugh at having to make sure the dishes are done before I blog. I can also say to myself, "leave them," and walk away. And that is an accomplishment that brings me peace. My leg no longer gets stuck in the door either. The occasional weird thought is allowed to pass through and move along without having to be "fixed."

A story that once brought me deep pain and frustration now only leaves a tinge of bittersweet. Why? Because this is a little girl I know, whom I have found deep compassion and love for...a little girl who has grown into me. And that makes me smile.

But it's only part of the story and the story is just that...a story....something to learn from, cry, laugh and grow through.

Quotes from the Wise

I have to share this passage out of Rabbi Rami Shapiro's excellent book, The Sacred Art of Lovingkindness (p. 39):

"Why are we so rarely in a state of grace? Because we rarely have the courage to expend ourselves fully in the moment. We want to know that there will be manna tomorrow, and we imagine that the best way to know this is to hoard some away.....
The dancer holds nothing back. Each movement is full, complete, with nothing left over. This is living in grace. To live in grace you must use up each moment and become empty again. If you accept the fullness of each moment and engage it without hesitation and restraint, if you use it up and leave nothing in its wake, you will be empty again and ready for the next moment.
The problem is that narrow mind is not comfortable with grace. It doesn't trust God to provide. It is by nature a worrier and a hoarder. Narrow mind prefers to engage the world based on merit. According to this paradigm, there are winners and losers, leaders and followers, the successful and the unsuccessful.
God says, 'I deal with each person according to merits, but to the person without merit I give grace' (Deuteronomy Rabbah, Va-Etchanan, 2:1)
The person of merit is the person trapped in narrow mind, preferring to operate on merit and seeing the world as a zero-sum game of winners and losers. The person without merit is the person at home in spacious mind, seeing each moment filled and full to capacity. There are no winners and losers in the world of spacious mind: there are only dancers at one with the Dance that is God."

A Point of Departure

Reading in my well-loved copy of Wayne Teasdale's devotional book, The Mystic Hours, I came across this quote by Rabbi Rami Shapiro:

A Jew cannot meet God; nor can a Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Confucian or Taoist. No labeled person can meet the Unlabeled and the Unlabelable. Each religious tradition must be self-transcending. Each must lead it's students to a point of departure and help them make the leap from tradition to Truth, God, the nondual reality that is the Source and the Substance of all things.

I know I'm stepping out here, but this quote stirred my heart deeply this morning and confirmed so well my own point of departure. The journey here has been long, arduous, at times painful, but finally so rich and full of grace. Sometimes the path felt overgrown and lonely, but looking closely revealed the ruts of other travelers along the way who had made a trail and left markers for weary souls like myself...travelers like Wayne Teasdale and Rabbi Shapiro and so many other seekers who have offered words of wisdom and inspiration to me on this path.

Could We Love Like That?

"I always begin my prayer in silence, for it is in the silence of the heart that God speaks..."

~Mother Teresa~

Luke and I had the movie "Mother Teresa" in our dvd player two nights in a row and were left with the same silence both nights. No words, just a deep, deep longing to be swept over by the Spirit of God found in this woman of devotion and compassion. This was a woman who was able to see each human with the same love and offer the same dignity to even the poorest of the poor, the sick and dying. She led a life of service that flourished directly from her deep life of prayer. Teresa of Calcutta was a human with struggles and frailties, yet she was driven by an unconditional love for humanity.My first instinct upon watching this movie was a longing for such a life of service. If only I could do the same. But I am not Mother Teresa, I am a mother of four precious children and a wife to a man with a heart who longs for the same devotion to our Creator. Teresa had many, many children...she believed that children belong to everyone. I love that perspective...what a vision for our world. What if we all, regardless of our place in life, embraced every child as our own. Brother Wayne Teasdale quoted Abbot Thomas Keating in his book, The Mystic Hours, saying, "The greatest accomplishment in life is to be who or what you are,and that is what God wanted you to be when He created you." Brother Wayne expands to say, "This ultimate acheivement requires conformity to the Divine's idea of each one of us, the essential perfection of love, mercy, kindness, and compassion in each one of us--expressed through our own uniqueness." While my heart has for many years been drawn to such pure love in action, particularly inspired by the lives of Amy Charmichael and Mother Teresa, and I felt at one time this strange tugging toward India to be a sign that I would one day be there, I am now realizing the connection to be at a different level. I did not go to India, I married and became a mother, yet my desire to know God and serve is just as intense. This is where I am to be, where I am to serve and to embrace who it is I was created to be, conforming right here to God's heart of 'love, mercy, kindness and compassion.' As Mother Teresa, in her Catholic tradition, saw Christ in the face of the least of these, in every faith tradition we are drawn to a compassion that awakens us to the divine in every soul and our responsibility to reach out in love to those around us, seeing the face of God in all His creation.Could we love like that?I found myself wondering if Mother Teresa ever snapped at "her children" in all her weariness, as I sometimes do with my own children. She must have at times felt weary and weak as we all do. Strange how it is often easier to show love and compassion to those outside our home than to those precious souls we live with and are closest to, our children, our spouses, our siblings, our parents. And yet, these are the very ones we are called to love and to serve.And what about those ones we see everyday? What if I was to walk on to the playground when I walk my children to school and look out to see every child, running, laughing, crying, jump-roping, sitting alone, beautiful smiling faces, tousled hair, in need of bathing or perfectly dressed, sweet and friendly or bitter and angry, as "my child"? What if I could see through the eyes of every person I pass and see the very soul who is a part of this whole beautiful, striving creation? What if we saw each other for who we really are instead of for the outer shell that we project to each other? Would we finally fall in love? With the Divine? With his creation?Could we love like that?
First posted November 5, 2007 on A Path to My Woods